


Midnight Is My Rubicon

by FiernaWeary



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: 2AM - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Random & Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 17:59:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4489275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiernaWeary/pseuds/FiernaWeary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nux perspective on Capable. Random drabble plot bunny that popped in my head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Is My Rubicon

Pain is a game he's known how to play. Little hurts to lure you in, bigger hurts once the body has adjusted. Laugh through the pain that makes your eyes well until your tears are mirth blazing burning trains through the ruination that used to be a cheek. Or an eye. A lip. He could play that game to the ends of the earth and challenge the very gods to do better.

Gentle hands reach up to cup a face that does not want them to be gentle. Careful fingers trace the cracks on lips that wanted them split to begin with. 

He doesn't want the gentleness. He doesn't know how to be cherished. He never learned to play that game. Nothing in his design is built for tender, or for slow. 

Delicate skin, unblemished but for the brand on her neck, brushes his. His skin has never felt to him before like so much sandpaper stretched thin over the wire of his bones. She will hurt herself on him at this rate. He is not built for soft skin to touch. 

He does not know the rules of this game, but he knows he cannot follow them. He sits still, waiting for her skin to split on the course scar that is the lot of him. He hisses a surprise, when her own chipped and jagged nails scrape down the branding on his chest. He hadn't noticed she'd broken them. 

Glancing up, her smile is almost as crooked as her teeth, and the soul behind her smirking eyes is shattered and patched and welded back together again with the shiniest chrome he's ever seen. 

Her voice, when she speaks, is almost as cracked as her nails. Dry and croaky, she sounds as old and ragged as the Vulvalini grandmother who told him he was not made to touch something as delicate as her. 

She tells him that Splendid had told her eyes were the windows to the soul, and no man could hide himself away if you could only see behind his eyes. She tells him that his are a beautiful blue. That they are pure, and she likes them. 

He blinks at her, and dares to lay a hand, his rough, dry, cracked, calused, dirty, unworthy hand upon her cheek. She leans into it, her smile becoming more jagged. She kisses his palm. She's glad, she says, that even though they'd killed the world, no one had managed to kill him yet. She tells him that what's inside him is beautiful. Her eyes light up, and she teases him, and tells him that he's Shiny.

The war boy knows how to play, when the name of the game is pain. He doesn't know the rules, if the rules say you have to be gentle. But the half-life scared up war boy can look at his tattered hand on her perfect cheek and see that she has been many times remade. 

And her patchwork soul can look at him with a crooked smile and see something that has not yet ever been destroyed. He doesn't know the rules, as she leans in to kiss her perfect lips against his shredded own, but he thinks they're both about to learn a thing or two.

**Author's Note:**

> First fic, please be gentle. Plot bunny got away from me with the whole she's broken inside he's broken outside.... thing. Yup.


End file.
